


White Satin and Lace

by dragonspell



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek Hale, Derek in Panties, Lingerie, M/M, Riding, Top Stiles Stilinski, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 14:37:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4308948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has put in his time.  He’d stood nicely through the ceremony while Derek had stood next to him looking downright beautiful what with the smile and the tux and the way the sunlight hit his hair, had sat through all the toasts and the small talk and his father’s tear-jerker of a speech, had even managed to keep his hands to himself when Derek’s tie had come off about a half hour in to the reception.  Okay, mostly.  <i>He’d kept it above the waist.</i>  Now, he just wants to get that perfectly tailored suit off of his perfectly tailored husband.  Stiles undoes Derek’s belt and pushes his hands beneath the waistband of Derek's pants.  He’s expecting elastic and cotton but what he finds is lace and smooth satin.  “Oh holy mother of God…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Satin and Lace

The door is a tease. How or why a door could be a tease considering that it’s, oh, an _inanimate object_ , Stiles doesn’t know, but he’s got zero other reasons for why the accompanying lock is this hard to operate. All the wonders of the modern world and here Stiles is stuck outside a hotel room, unable to work a key card and a lock like the entirety of his life is just one big cosmic joke. He’s been standing in the hallway like a jackass for an embarrassingly, _frustratingly_ long time while Derek stands beside him and thinks that it’s funny. 

And speaking of teases… Stiles glances over at Derek and has to bite his lip. God. Derek’s looking like a model waiting for his photo shoot to start, that perfect bit of nonchalance and searing hotness as he leans against the wall and drums one hand against his thigh. He’s actually waiting for Stiles to give up on the door but he can just stand there and look pretty because Stiles can _do this_. Sure, Stiles can’t toss a full-sized monster across a parking lot one-handed or make a guy shit his pants with a roar, but Stiles can work a goddamned _lock_. He’s just…distracted right now, that’s all. Derek’s dress shirt is unbuttoned down to mid-chest because Stiles had been all up on that until they’d reached the hotel and Derek had forced Stiles out of the car. Derek’s tie is also long gone because Derek doesn’t like to have things around his neck—unless it’s the collar that Stiles bought last year and _fuck_ , Stiles really doesn’t need to be thinking about that right now because Derek’s hot enough as it is. Thinking about that little strap of leather buckled around Derek’s throat while Derek looks up at him, all breathless panting and pleading eyes because the collar turns him on as much as it does Stiles, is bound to make Stiles come in his pants before they even get to do anything tonight. 

And tonight’s supposed to be special. Stiles needs to focus. 

Derek, Stiles knows, should be considered a controlled substance because it’s dangerous to even look at him sometimes. Hell, Derek should be locked away somewhere for the world’s own good—and Stiles should be right there with him. You know, taking one for the team. Preferably naked.

Which they _would_ be if the damn door would just _cooperate_. See, Stiles has plans. Big plans. Like, astronomical, ginormous, stupendous, and they all depend on him being able to get the door open. They also all boil down to the idea of him and Derek getting horizontal as soon as possible—though staying vertical worked, too, actually, now that he thought about it. Until their knees buckled, at least. They just needed to _not_ be in a public hallway anymore.

It really isn’t fair either because, damn it, Stiles has put in his time. He’d stood nicely through the ceremony while Derek had stood next to him looking downright _beautiful_ what with the smile and the tux _and the way the sunlight hit his hair_ , had sat through all the toasts and the small talk and his father’s tear-jerker of a speech, had even managed to keep his hands to himself when Derek’s tie had come off about a half hour in to the reception. Okay, mostly. _He’d kept it above the waist._ And with Derek’s freakish werewolf healing there aren’t even any marks to prove anything. That’s about the best someone could ask of Stiles at his own damn wedding when he was faced with the prospect of getting that perfectly tailored suit off of his perfectly tailored husband in a few hours.

It really doesn’t help that there’s a smirk threatening to break free of Derek’s lips because Stiles just can’t deal with that right now. If there’s something that he’s learned about Derek over the past few years, it’s that Derek should always be smiling because Derek’s smile is like if a rainbow wrapped itself around a basket of kittens and cuddled with puppies. It’s irresistible, alright? Stiles shouldn’t be blamed if it makes him go weak in the knees.

And he’s been waiting for a _week_. He doesn’t know what gave him the crazy idea that spending the past week not sleeping together would be a good thing. There’d been something about making it special and tradition and whatnot. Bunch of bullshit as far as Stiles is concerned right now. He’s about to _explode_ because they’re in a hallway and he’s got to behave himself. If he so much as touches Derek right now, he might not stop until after the police showed up and the only good thing about that is that they’re a town over so it wouldn’t be his dad coming to investigate the case of public indecency. 

The worst thing about all of it is that Stiles knows that it had been completely his idea, too. Derek had been the practical one, pointing out that they’d been having sex for years _(3 as far as his father knew; 4 if Stiles was honest and counted things like Derek letting Stiles dry hump him in the Jeep)_ and living together for the past six months, so what did it matter? But Stiles, in his _infinite stupidity_ , had just looked at Derek’s gloriously naked body, his Greek god-like abs and soft, dark hair leading down to his thick, gorgeous dick, and, like he was some kind of monk, had merely pushed Derek down on the bed and tucked him in with a chaste kiss to Derek’s pouting little lips _(actually fucking pouting because there is a God and He is Derek’s face)._ Then Stiles had slept in the cold, lonely guest room every night after because Derek is fucking _special_ , alright? And Stiles just wanted to _do this_ and “let me do this, Derek, please. I want to make this special for you alright? You deserve it.”

It’s not that Derek isn’t special. Because he is. He so is. He’s a snowflake balanced on the horn of a unicorn and Stiles hears angels when he smiles, he’s that fucking special. It’s just that Derek is also hotter than an inferno, burning away all of Stiles’s self control in just one look, and just like he promised the priest and God and most importantly Derek himself, Stiles loves him. Stiles loves Derek. He’d gotten down on one knee and proposed, resisted Lydia’s attempt at turning the church into a flower garden because of how it made Derek’s nose wrinkle, and had written and delivered cheesy, embarrassing wedding vows that had made Derek a little misty-eyed and he’d done it all gladly. Now, Stiles just wants to reap the benefits of all that hard work and have the hot married sex that he’s been promised, but he can’t even get in the damn door!

“Fuck! You have got to be _kidding me_!” Stiles shakes the handle. It’s probably a good thing that he never took the bite. The door would have been off the hinges by now.

Derek chuckles to himself, his face turned towards the patterned wallpaper because Derek’s adorable like that sometimes. Stiles wants to grab Derek’s face each time that he tries to hide his laughter and give him a kiss so he knows just how perfect he is and how crazy he makes Stiles. Then Stiles wants to make Derek laugh some more so that he can kiss him again.

“I will _get it_ ,” Stiles insists, trying again. Fifth time’s a charm, right? That stuff about three’s for quitters.

“Do you want me to try?” Derek asks.

“No, I’ve got it. Watch me.” The light finally blinks green—sixth time—and the locked clicks open. “See? See? What did I tell you?” Stiles Stilinski, master of all recalcitrant hotel locks the world over. Sorry, Stilinski- _Hale_. They’d signed papers. That made it official. Lydia had said that so it must be true.

“Right.” Derek turns his face again and this time Stiles doesn’t have the will to try and stop himself. He coaxes Derek’s face back towards him with his fingertips and leans in to press a soft kiss against Derek’s lips, a reward for Derek allowing himself to smile that way. Stiles will never get tired of this, especially not with the soft way that Derek pulls him in and kisses him back. Derek goes slow and easy, like they have all the time in the world, the rest of their lives, just him and Stiles and their mouths working together, as his arms wrap around Stiles, safe and secure. Derek’s like gravity, Stiles thinks, and he gives in to the irresistible pull to just let go and have Derek hold them both up as Stiles’s knees go weak. Derek teases his mouth open and Stiles moans softly as their tongues slide against one another. 

It’s right about at this point that they’ve been getting cut off all day, usually by a clearing of a throat or a good-natured chuckle to remind them that, yes, there were other people in the room and, yeah, they were totally being stared at. Stiles is heady with the idea that, sure, they’re still in the hallway and there are other hotel guests somewhere about, but for the moment they’re alone and they’re allowed this. Derek sucks hard at Stiles’s bottom lip, then there’s a sharp nip and Stiles gives it right back as they leave sweet behind and quickly edge into dangerous territory. God, yeah. Stiles has been waiting a _week_. That’s, like, forever when you’re used to getting it on the regular from a smoking hot werewolf. 

Stiles’s legs tremble as Derek’s hands slip down his back and grip his ass. “Yeah,” Stiles mutters in between mashing his face against Derek’s. “Your hands, shit, Derek, yeah—love—just like that—” Stiles learned long ago that unless he’s gagged, he can’t keep his mouth shut and it’s just best to go with the flow.

Beside them, the lock clicks back into place with a smug little ‘snick’ and Stiles rips his mouth away from Derek’s. “Oh, come on!”

Derek full on laughs, none of his little chuckles, and Stiles’s heart clenches. There’s a sound that Stiles hasn’t heard near enough. “Here,” Derek says, taking the card from him. Stiles readies a comment for when the lock defies Derek, too, but _of course _Derek gets it to work on the first try. Of course he does.__

__“I beat it into submission for you,” Stiles tells him as Derek opens the door before it has a chance to lock again._ _

__“Right.” Derek rolls his eyes and takes a step into the room, turning to let Stiles in as well._ _

__“I did,” Stiles insists. “I could do it again, too. It’s scared of me now.” He zips in before Derek can shut the door in his face, though, because he doesn’t want to actually have to prove that. Derek raises one scarily communicative eyebrow and Stiles throws his hands out. “Whatever, I don’t care, just—” He steps into Derek’s arms again and slips his hand under Derek’s coat, feeling the hard muscle through the white dress shirt. “Get your clothes off already.” He buries his face in Derek’s neck, nipping under his jaw to hear Derek’s shaky gasp because Stiles learned years ago that Derek’s a slut for the neck stuff. There’s nothing like a few little nips to drive Derek wild—or a hard bite to make him deliciously submissive. It’s probably a werewolf thing and Stiles is probably a little shit for feeling smug about it using it as shamelessly as he does but it’s not like Stiles has ever been above fighting dirty. He’s a human in a gang of werewolves and other assorted creatures for Christ’s sake; he’s _had_ to be. _ _

__While Derek shudders, Stiles grabs the hem of Derek’s coat and pulls, hoping to force the process a little. “Stiles!” Stiles surrenders, holding his hands out because that was definitely a growl and he knows what Derek’s going to say next. And, yeah, sure, Derek’s got a point because the suits each cost a small fortune but Stiles is getting desperate, okay? He’s got needs and there’s entirely too much fabric in the way. He rolls his hips, rubbing himself against Derek’s thigh as he shrugs out of his own suit coat and tosses it behind him. Derek finally gets with the program, peeling himself out of his outermost layer, and Stiles busies himself with finishing the important work he’d started in the limo. Derek untangles Stiles’s tie, jerking him forward with it before letting it slither to floor and getting started on the buttons of Stiles’s shirt._ _

__They’re moving steadily into the room, Derek backing up one small swaying step at a time and Stiles mindlessly following because at this point, he’d follow Derek’s ass anywhere. Stiles hopes that they’re heading in the direction of the bed because otherwise he’s going to end up with carpet burn and that’s hardly how he wants to remember tonight._ _

__He finds Derek’s mouth again and slips his tongue between Derek’s lips as he presses their bodies as close together as he can manage. They stumble backwards and Derek catches them before they hit the ground, grabbing at Stiles’s elbows to keep them steady. Stiles, though, doesn’t care about staying upright. He’s got bigger fish to fry: namely the fact that they are still both entirely overdressed. His fingers pull blindly at the last of Derek’s buttons and skim the shirt underneath until they can finally touch Derek’s heated skin. Derek inhales, his stomach contracting, and a few buttons clatter to the floor as Derek jumps aboard the desperation train and gives up on actually getting Stiles’s shirt undone the proper way. Stiles grins against Derek’s lips. “Careful,” he whispers. “These cost a fortune.” Derek growls, his eyes flashing blue, and fuck, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is._ _

__Stiles undoes Derek’s belt and pushes his hands beneath the waistband of Derek's pants. He’s expecting elastic and cotton but what he finds is lace and smooth satin. “Oh holy mother of God…”_ _

__The bed slams into Stiles’s back _(oh, there it is)_ and he sprawls on top of it, staring up at Derek’s flushed face before focusing back on Derek’s crotch. He can still feel the silky smoothness against his fingers and Stiles is going to die tonight. He’s going to burst right along with his blue balls and painfully hard dick because he honestly hadn’t expected this. Derek averts his eyes, staring at the wall as he quickly sheds his dress shirt and the tank under it, leaving him half-naked with his belt undone, but when he goes to yank his pants off with the same expediency, Stiles’s breath catches in his throat. “Slower,” Stiles pleads. “Oh my God, slower…”_ _

__Stiles _needs_ this, okay? Like air. Like water. Like about as much as he needs Derek himself._ _

__Derek meets Stiles’s eyes again, flushing a darker shade as he realizes what Stiles is asking for, but Derek’s nothing if not brave. He is the bravest damn person that Stiles has ever met and he’s not going to let a little thing like embarrassment stop him from meeting a direct challenge. Like a trooper, Derek smoothes his hands down his chest in a tease worthy of a stripper, fingers hitting all the bumps and grooves that Stiles wants to follow with his tongue and Stiles squirms. “Oh God, Derek…” Stiles breathes, unable to do much else besides stare. When his hands reach his hips, Derek gives a little sinuous roll and hooks his thumbs into his waistband. Stiles shamelessly grabs himself as he licks his dry lips, then watches as Derek inches down his pants to give just a hint of white._ _

__Stiles groans and tightens his grip as his dick throbs. Of course they’re white. Neither one of them has been a virgin for awhile now but of course they’re white. White _fucking _satin and Stiles already wants to pull them off with his teeth and he hasn’t even fully seen them yet.___ _

____The pants slip down an inch more, the white starting to form a lacy halo at Derek’s hips. Stiles rakes his eyes up and down Derek’s body and nods in approval. “Yeah. God, yeah, shit, Derek…” His mouth is starting to run away with him again._ _ _ _

____Derek spins around, presenting his back as he lets his pants drop even further, letting them rest on the swell of his ass. Stiles wants to bite right where they stop, wants to run his hands over the curves, wants to mould himself to Derek’s back and ride him. “Oh, _fuck_ yeah.” Stiles is close and they’ve barely even started. He’s going to go off like a firework the moment that Derek lets Stiles get his hands on that sculpted body._ _ _ _

____The pants drop the rest of the way, pooling down around Derek’s ankles and Stiles is done, so freaking done. Derek spreads his legs and bends just enough that Stiles can see his satin-covered bulge and Stiles flat-out whimpers because he doesn’t care anymore. “You’re going to kill me,” Stiles whines. He yanks his shirt off over his head, flailing a bit when he gets caught in it for a moment. He tosses it to the side and tugs at his belt. “Get over here already!”_ _ _ _

____Derek straightens and smiles teasingly despite his blush. “I thought you wanted to go slow?”_ _ _ _

____“It’s overrated,” Stiles snaps as he shoves his slacks past his ass. “Now, Jesus, hurry up before I die of blue balls or something.”_ _ _ _

____Derek moves towards the bed, his hard dick starting to peek over the top of his panties, unable to be contained by the little scrap of satin and lace. Stiles kicks his pants off his legs and flings them to the side. “Oh, that is so not fair,” he mutters. “That is playing dirty. I’m so not going to last…” Derek hits the bed and drops down to crawl forward, his ass in the air while his smirk turns positively predatory. “Kill me now,” Stiles pleads. Quick, before the blood loss from his brain causes permanent damage._ _ _ _

____Graceful and dangerous like the wolf he is, Derek stalks up the bed until he reaches Stiles and crawls into his lap. Stiles isn’t sure where he wants to touch first, so his hands flutter spastically over Derek’s body, flittering over his hips, his pecs, his biceps, his thighs before Derek settles the matter by grabbing a hold of Stiles’s face and dragging him into a kiss making Stiles have to grip Derek’s back just to stay grounded and not fracture into a million tiny pieces._ _ _ _

____Derek presses his advantage, ravishing Stiles’s mouth until Stiles can’t think beyond Derek and his heat. Derek rolls his hips, rubbing himself against Stiles stomach and Stiles moans and drops his hands back down to the edge of the satin panties, once again reminded that Derek is going to be the death of him._ _ _ _

____This was supposed to be the first day of the rest of their lives together but Stiles is going to die before they even make it a full 24 hours and he’s not even going to be mad about it because _what a way to go._ They can print this on his tombstone. _Stiles Stilinski-Hale Killed by Derek Stilinski-Hale’s rockin’ bod and his white satin and lace panties.__ _ _ _

____Stiles dips his fingers underneath the small elastic band and caresses Derek’s skin, slipping around to the front and stopping just of Derek’s pretty cock to tease both of them at the same time. Derek shudders, rocking himself forward as he throws his head back. Stiles follows him, sucking at his neck. “Do it,” Derek says. He’s trying for a growl Stiles knows but it’s more breathless than anything else._ _ _ _

____“Give me a minute,” Stiles responds, tugging at Derek’s underwear. He loves the little bit of give, the way the fabric shifts on Derek’s skin, how it accommodates the heavy weight of Derek’s balls. He wants to commit everything to memory, sear it into his mind forever._ _ _ _

____Derek doesn’t give him the chance._ _ _ _

____With a snarl, Derek curls himself forward again and shoves Stiles onto the bed. “Slow is overrated,” he growls, his eyes electric blue and his teeth sharper than they should be. Apparently the week had been hard for more than just Stiles. Derek drops himself on top of Stiles, hips moving and hands sliding over Stiles’s bare skin as Derek forces Stiles into another kiss. It’s like he’s trying to fuse their bodies together. Stiles is A-okay with that plan._ _ _ _

____While he uses one hand to hold onto Derek’s flexing back _(so fucking hot)_ , Stiles shoves his other between them to drag his underwear down far enough to free his cock because he needs to feel it rub against Derek’s warm skin. He keeps Derek’s panties in place and arches upward, feeling the satin and lace drag against his cock and the hardness of Derek underneath._ _ _ _

____Derek licks a line down Stiles’s throat, moves to his shoulder to bite down gently, while Stiles palms Derek’s cock through the satin, feeling it thick and heavy against his hand. “Can’t believe you wore them,” Stiles mutters, half to himself. “Can’t believe you went back and _bought_ them.” The panties had been mostly a joke—a lewd innuendo and an eyebrow waggle that was just Stiles being Stiles. Oh, sure, he’d filed the idea of them and Derek’s firm ass getting up close and personal into his ‘ultimate fantasy’ folder, but really, what didn’t he file there nowadays? It was in there with the collar thing and getting Derek to smile by serving him breakfast in bed. Stiles was quickly shoving his whole life in his ‘ultimate fantasy’ folder because _Derek. _Derek, who had apparently gone back to the mall and grabbed up a pair of white, lace-trimmed panties just so that he could wear them on their wedding night and get Stiles’s brain to leak out his ears.___ _ _ _

______The blush is still very much in place on Derek’s cheeks as Derek determinedly works his way down Stiles’s chest. “You wanted them,” he says, his voice rumbling against Stiles. “And you said…” He slides down Stiles’s body to sit on his legs in order to press a kiss against Stiles’s stomach, just an inch away from where Stiles is dying for him. “…tonight was special.” Derek punctuates the last word by blowing a puff of air across the head of Stiles’s twitching cock._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles shivers. “ _Fuck_ ,” he whispers, threading his fingers through Derek’s hair. He needs Derek to do that again. Touch him, suck him, fuck him, _God_ , anything. But Derek stays where he is, motionless and barely breathing, until Stiles finally looks down and sees Derek looking back at him. “It is.” Tonight? Tonight is a fucking _gift_ and Stiles wants to tell Derek that but just as he’s about to, Derek lets his tongue skim over Stiles’s cock and Stiles can’t seem to form coherent sentences anymore. He gasps out an “oh god” and drops his head back against the mattress, his lips forming more words that he doesn’t comprehend._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek whines, full out whines. “Love you too,” he says and swallows Stiles down until Stiles is nothing more than the wet, searing heat of Derek’s mouth._ _ _ _ _ _

______When Derek releases him, lets his leaking dick slap back against his belly, Stiles knots his fingers in Derek’s hair mutely begging for more, pleading for Derek to take pity on him and finish him off. Derek ignores the plea, roughly gripping Stiles’s thighs before sliding upwards again to bite at Stiles’s mouth. “Fuck me,” he breathes and Stiles’s heart threatens to give out altogether._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re going to kill me,” Stiles mutters, but it’s not as much of a complaint as it is a simple observation because Derek doesn’t waste any time in getting them both what they want. A quick grab by Derek’s hand and a shove of the panties and Stiles is inside Derek, his cock incased in tight, slick heat. Stiles’s eyes roll back and he tries not to come. “ _Christ, Derek_.” Derek was ready for him. Derek was already slick, which meant that he’d spent the entire day thinking of this, knowing what he wanted and that little duck to the bathroom after the cake cutting suddenly took on a new and important meaning. “Oh, God, oh fuck…”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek rocks himself on top of Stiles, driving Stiles in deeper as he fully seats himself. Stiles can feel the panties rubbing against his cock and it’s almost too much. His right leg spasms and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, fighting for control. Then he makes the mistake of looking at Derek again._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek’s staring down at him, brows drawn down and mouth open like Stiles is the best thing he’s ever felt, even as his eyes focus in on Stiles like a wolf does its prey. Derek licks his lips, hungry, and Stiles starts babbling again, breathy broken whispers of how beautiful Derek is, how perfect, how amazing, and how much Stiles loves him. He curls his fingers around Derek’s hips and holds on._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles starts to meet Derek thrust for thrust, pushing up into him on each of Derek’s downslides and Derek’s eyes flutter as he tilts his head back, baring his throat in a way that makes Stiles feel even hotter because he knows what it means. Derek’s never come out and told him directly, but Stiles knows what it means. Stiles squeezes his eyes shut but the image is still there, burned into his brain, and Derek flattens his hands to Stiles’s chest, not giving Stiles a chance to get a hold of himself. Stiles’s whole body tightens up despite how he tries to fight. He’s too wound up, too excited, and he doesn’t have a chance in Hell of holding back. “Sorry—I’m so—Christ—Derek, sorry, I can’t—”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles comes way too soon, hips bucking as he pants and whines and trembles. Derek keeps riding him, drawing it out as long as possible until Stiles is nothing more than a limp, twitching mess and Derek slows to a stop. So pathetic, Stiles thinks, and hides his face behind his hands as his face flames hotter. He’d barely last ten minutes past them getting in the door. How was that for special? He feels Derek’s hands close around his wrists but stubbornly resists Derek’s attempt to pull them down._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Stiles…” Derek whispers. Stiles shudders. Derek sounds close too, like a minute away from losing it entirely, and Stiles’s inquisitive nature all but forces him to take a peek. Derek’s still flushed, his eyes lidded and dark, and his mouth is hanging open like he’s finding it hard to breathe. His chest is rising and falling with each quietly desperate gasp as little, fine tremors quiver across his skin. Stiles attention darts downward, looking at the desperate flush of Derek’s cock. Its heavy weight pulls at the front of Derek’s panties, stretching them just enough so that Derek’s dick is hanging over Stiles and a string of precome has dripped downward to pool on Stiles’s stomach. It’s hard to believe that Derek’s even real and not part of an incredibly high-definition porno—you know, that classy shit that you can never seem to find for free. How is this Stiles’s life?_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Please,” Derek says, pulling at Stiles’s wrists again. This time, Stiles lets himself be maneuvered, letting Derek put him wherever he wants. Derek draws him forward, gasping as he trails Stiles’s fingers over his hard cock. He rolls his hips and slips Stiles’s hand in between the silky smoothness of the panties and the soft heat of his body. Experimentally, Stiles rubs a finger against Derek, watching how Derek’s face crumbles before diverting his attention back down to where they’re connected. Though he’s spent and growing soft, Stiles is still inside of Derek and Derek seems content to keep it that way, each roll of his hips keeping him still firmly seated on top of Stiles. Stiles wraps his fingers around Derek’s dick, tight and sure, and strokes him until Derek arches and spills with a groan. He jerks in Stiles’s hand, come arcing up Stiles’s chest and Stiles tries to memorize every minute._ _ _ _ _ _

______Still breathing heavy, Derek curls over Stiles and nuzzles at his throat. His nose pushes back behind Stiles’s ear, checking his scent, and Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s shoulders. He’s sated—embarrassed but sated._ _ _ _ _ _

______Lips move languidly against Stiles’s jaw as Derek basks in the afterglow. It’s always like this after. Derek gets all sleepy and clingy, looking to cuddle, and Stiles would be lying if he said that he didn’t love it. He smoothes a hand down Derek’s back and lets Derek do as he pleases._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Sorry,” Stiles says eventually, breaking the comfortable silence between them. Embarrassment is still simmering on a back burner in his mind. A week of nothing and he’d only given Derek ten minutes._ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek pauses. “For?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles winces. Of course Derek is going to make him spell it out. “Not lasting.” He’d honestly thought that he’d be better at this, that they’d get into the room and then Stiles would blow Derek’s mind three times over, make him lazy and sex-dumb, before Stiles came. It wasn’t that Stiles didn’t want to come, just that he knew that he had to pace himself. He was still young, sure, but there was no way that he could keep up with a werewolf’s refractory period. He’s _tried._ Besides. He’d wanted their first time after being married to be more…memorable._ _ _ _ _ _

______The words hang between them and Stiles holds his breath, waiting for an answer—any answer. Derek makes him wait. One, two, three, four— Derek growls and sinks his teeth into the skin of Stiles’s throat, just enough to hurt. “ _Ow_.” Werewolves. _Seriously._ But he stays flat on the bed, not even bothering to pretend that he’s going to slap Derek for the bite and Derek rumbles in approval like the freak he is as he runs his tongue over the mark he left. It’s an apology of sorts—even if Derek does sound smug about it. “Jerk,” Stiles mutters, but there’s no heat in it._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I liked it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles frowned. “Did you just say—”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I liked it,” Derek repeats. He gives Stiles a quick kiss. “You were good.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay, you don’t have to lie to—” Derek bites him again, this time a little harder, and Stiles half-raises his hand. “ _Ow, fucker._ ” He glares down at Derek who grins and licks at the wound. Stiles is surprised he isn’t bleeding._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Don’t apologize for good sex,” Derek tells him._ _ _ _ _ _

______Oh, bless his heart. Just when Stiles thinks that he can’t love Derek more, Derek tries to save him from himself. Still. “That wasn’t good sex,” he points out. “I mean, you were here for it, right? You, now you were phenomenal what with the panties and the take charge thing. Sexy. But me? Come on, Derek, that wasn’t good.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek shrugs. “Fine. Great sex.” When Stiles tries to argue, Derek kisses him again, pushing his tongue into Stiles’s mouth to steal the words. Stiles loses himself until Derek finally lets him back up again. Derek licks along Stiles’s bottom lip and smiles. “And I’m almost ready for round two,” he growls and reels backward, dragging Stiles with him until Stiles is straddling his lap and Stiles gets a good idea of how close Derek is to that second round. Stiles moans and wraps his arms around Derek’s neck as all thoughts of possible disappointment disappear out the window._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Round two,” Stiles agrees, nodding his head. “Sure, yep, I’m down for that. Then three and four and six.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What happened to five?” Derek’s eyebrows rise up, almost asking the question themselves. _Scarily_ communicative._ _ _ _ _ _

______Stiles smirks. “Five is that time between four and six when I eat your ass until you come because your recovery time is faster than mine.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Derek nods, pretending to think about it. “Sounds fair.” He rubs his nose along the edge of Stiles’s ear as his hands roam downward to grip Stiles’s ass. Stiles mimics the motion, rubbing his palms on the smooth satin that Derek’s still wearing._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Love these,” Stiles says. “Shame about the black ones, though.” They’d been sheer. And had come with matching stockings. “And the pink.” _Ruffles_ , man. Frilly little ruffles._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Honeymoon,” Derek growls and Stiles only has a second’s warning before he’s flat on his back on the bed again, with Derek looming over him. Derek bites at his lips, apparently all cuddled out for the moment. Stiles approves. So much. He squeaks as Derek pins his arms above his head with one hand. “I bought all three.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“God, I love you,” Stiles says fervently, plans already forming in his head._ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> This took way longer than it should have.


End file.
